|Where I could be found...when the earthquake came to towned...errr, town.|
The children and I are lake bums. I've lost track of how many times we've gone to a lake, this summer, but, so far, we've visited three state parks and a campground for lake swimming. We've been repeat visitors at two of these locations, and I feel like Bear Creek Lake State Park, in particular, has become a second home.
On Tuesday, I was sitting just inside Bear Creek Lake--holding Charleigh while she played in the water--when we experienced an earthquake.
Have you ever heard the saying: "Don't let the door hit ya where the good Lord split ya?" Probably not. I mean: how rude. East Tennessee talk, methinks. But it makes me laugh.
And let me just say: when the earth started shaking, Tuesday, I felt a little like the door hit me where the good Lord split me. There was some shaking going on, in my nether regions.
You can see from this photo just how alarmed Cade was:
Just kidding. His friend Sam was pulling him off the turtle.
Seriously, though? Somebody said the fish were jumping up out the water. (I didn't see that, personally.)
But the strangest thing was the sound. I thought somebody'd gotten overzealous with his excavating machine. My friend Jeannine (a gift from God, and Maryville College) had driven down, from Connecticut, and was sitting near me. She thought motorcyles.
(I like knowing that Northerner can say to her people, of me: "Don't you know when I saw that girl for the first time in fifteen years, the ground shook?!")
Now, I know the earth shakes much harder, other places. But around here, we'd become pretty accustomed to walking up on solid ground. The only shakes we know much about come from Bruster's Real Ice Cream. So 5.8 is big news.
And, as the aftershocks continue, I'll admit: I find this earthquake business unsettling. I don't like the shaking, and I really don't like the rumbling. I don't like knowing that--earlier this summer--Erin Quigley (another gift from God, and Maryville College), the babies, and I spent a day swimming in Lake Anna at Christopher Run Campground, which happens to be located in Mineral, Virginia: the epicenter.
Here's a (crooked) photo from that day:
So, yesterday, I asked myself: Self, in the wake of the quake, just what would make you feel better? And I answered: Why, a trip to Belle Isle...and Bottom's Up Pizza; thank you so much for asking!
And what do you know? It worked! I felt happier, having visited Belle Isle and eaten a slice of Greek pizza big as my head.
Still, after the girls went to bed last night, I thought some Bruster's ice cream might be in order. I went with New-York Cheesecake and Peanut-butter Crunch with Butterfinger. In a sugar cone.
Lovely, splurgy food aside, I've found nothing more comforting--in the wake of the quake--than the words of my talking scale, this morning, after I ate my oatmeal with raisins and climbed upon her, naked before the Lord.
"187.6," she said.
And, since I started the month at 199.8, I'll take it.
Traveling mercies, My Dear Jeannine. Let's not make it fifteen years until we see one another, next. xoxo